


Crossed Wires

by Solovei, yuuago



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Five Times, Kissing, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/pseuds/yuuago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times they tried to take things to the next level, and one time they succeeded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lalli

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collaborative challenge: write 5 drabbles to the same prompt. Lalli's chapter is by Yuu; Emil's is by Solo

Lalli doesn't expect the first kiss.

Palms cupping his face, warm, gentle, bare. Closing his eyes, he rests into that, takes it for what it is, just another weird gesture.

But the press to his mouth is something new.

Startled, he allows it, and thinks – after the first breath – well, actually, that's okay.

The second one comes, and he accepts it gladly.

But the third is not like the second; the third has tongue, and he shoves Emil away. 

Lalli's cheeks are hot, and Emil is red too, spilling out apologies.

It was just – slimy. Gross. No.

He can't explain.

* * *

Lalli returns, as always. At the edges the night brightens, washing blue the sky's blackness, dark as it is with only a sliver of moon.

Return. Decontaminate. Debrief. Deliver his findings, scribble things on the map and mutter, yawning, to his cousin.

Someone is not awake.

He slinks like a cat to the back of the tank, slides onto the bunk, curls up to that warm body. 

Blinks as Emil turns over. He allows one kiss– then squirms away, rolls out and then under the bunk.

It is not that he doesn't like it.

He's just too tired for this.

* * *

Night drops. Lalli waits. Traces the map, takes one last look. The rest have left, gone to turn in, take their sleep.

Footsteps. He knows who they belong to even before he feels Emil's fingertips brush along his shoulder, the warmth as arms wrap around him. Hears words that mean nothing. Turns his head and accepts the kiss that he's offered.

The kiss is a plea to take care, sinking in deeper than words. He takes it, allows it, lingers too long. Tonight, Emil clings, but he can't.

He can't.

Lalli pushes him away and steps out into the night.

* * *

Hair in his face. Again.

Lalli nudges Emil back. Huffs and brushes the strands out the way. Tries, unsuccessfully, to tuck them behind Emil's ears. Again. But Emil's hair refuses to stay in place.

Emil looks embarrassed. Mutters something, nonsense as usual, in response to the accusing look, the annoyance. It sounds like an apology.

Well. Fine.

He allows another kiss – no.

No.

No. That won't do.

Ugh, it's in his mouth – _gross_. 

Lalli huffs and rolls over, presses his face into the pillow. Closes his eyes, ignores the apologies, and resolves to make Emil tie it back next time.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of a word, soft. Blinks open his eyes. They're alone.

The others are outside; let them stay out. Emil gives him a mug of mint tea, sits by him on the bunk, talks.

Lalli listens and drinks and says nothing.

Slowly, the mug is set aside.

Slowly, his fingertips go to that round face. Give a warm touch, warmer as the skin heats underneath.

Slowly, he tilts his head, takes a kiss without asking.

And as he nudges Emil down, he kisses him again, and again, and again, and prays the door will not open.


	2. Emil

Lalli likes to steal his kisses in the dark, when Emil is half-asleep, and tonight he wants to be ready. He lies awake, not breathing, waiting. His imagination takes over, wild, leaving him awake, waiting, and now also agonizingly aroused. 

A hand brushes his cheek; it should be scary, but it isn’t. Lalli’s face is very close, eyes half-lidded; he smells of old dust and fresh snow. Emil raises his head to kiss him just as the itching behind his nose forces out a sneeze. Lalli stares at him with disgust and disbelief for a full ten seconds before disappearing.

* * *

“I uh… have to pee.” Emil announces, hoping nobody notices the coincidence of their departures. Once the door closes behind him, he shivers, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. As if on cue, the scout grabs his wrist, leading him into a thicket of bare trees. 

Emil’s back hits the frozen ground in a tangle of limbs, their hot breaths cloud the air and -- “Oww, Lalli, watch it!” He winces sharply, trying to rub away the pain blooming under his bandaged leg. The scout throws a word back at him, small and pointed, and leaves him alone in the woods.

* * *

They start out slowly, but impatience betrays them. Long fingers hit a painful snag in golden hair, noses bump against each other, hands make ill-timed advances. Swears are whispered in both Finnish and Swedish, and Emil is starting to lose hope. Maybe they are too different. Still, he tries to figure out Lalli’s system of gestures and soft noises. For a few moments, it seems to work, their timing is perfect and everything feels so fantastic --

A knock. Someone calls his name, and follows it with Icelandic gibberish. He groans, gives Lalli’s forehead a quick kiss, and opens the door.

* * *

Finally, Emil thinks. Finally they have it to themselves while everyone is busy outside. He grins and doesn’t mind being shoved onto the bunk, or the cold hands on his stomach, or the strangely sharp teeth on his neck. He shivers with desire, wants to feel the soft skin and the wiry muscle underneath, hands fumbling with buttons and zippers.

“Mrow.”  
Emil blinks. Lalli freezes on top of him, listening. “Meee~ow,” comes the noise again. Tiny paws thud softly above his head. As she curls up and falls asleep, Emil puts his shirt back on with a deep sigh.

* * *

An abandoned, potentially infested building is not the most romantic location, though it hardly matters because Emil is floating. Kisses bloom like fire on his face, his neck, but he is trying his best not to make too much noise. He feels something pressing between his legs, bites his lip, stifles a moan and lets his hand duck under waistband of Lalli’s pants. The scout smirks under his hood, devious or daring, Emil can’t tell. There are at least ten rules they are breaking, but - he checks the time - they still have ten minutes, and he forgets them almost immediately.


End file.
